Follow me into the dark
by Supreme-won
Summary: An interpretation of the corruption of Sauron, drawing from The Silmarillion and The Lost Tales. Will also include Ar-Pharazôn and the Nazgûl.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Although Sauron was corrupted earlier, "in the beginning" I have bumped it forward for the hell of it. The following merges content from both the Silmarillion and The Lost Tales; for example, The Silmarillion describes the rape of the Silmarils and destruction of the trees as occurring in the same event, while The Lost Tales sets them apart as two separate events. I have adopted the latter version in here. All appropriate rights to Tolkien.**

The blows of Mairon's hammer fell timely and gracefully on the hot molten, bending it into shape with precision. But it was

apparent to any of similar quality of skill that the mind of this expert crafter was not currently bestowed into his work.

His movements were not concentrated in the passion that Aulë encouraged; rather, they were estranged from his very thought.  
Mairon tired of the gems and elvish trinkets Aulë not only helped forge but enthused his pupils to create. Instead, he  
longed for the early days of Arda when he had aided Aulë in the formation of earth. He longed to make use of the power  
given to him; to raise mountains, carve valleys...all of which served a great purpose.  
From his point of view, the elves held a lowly fascination for shiny objects and the Valar were more than happy to do  
whatever needed to please them, wasting their own potential in the process.  
Only one other seemed dissatisfied as he was, and Mairon struggled to overlook this. But he had to admit to himself that  
Melkor intrigued him. He was different, he was dark, he was mysterious...unpredictable. Mairon, however, knew the line  
between duty and wrongdoing. He had been witness to several conversations on the topic of Melkor - he was a liar,  
deceiver; nothing from his lips could ever be trusted. Even now he was under strict supervision and the elves were warned  
to be wary of him. While Manwë chose to think better of his brother, Mairon observed the hatred Melkor reserved for the  
children of Eru.  
He had not even been aware of Melkor's presence until now. In alarm, he nearly dropped his hammer, staring back into  
those cold black eyes that held something he could find nowhere else, before turning away and feigning intense interest in  
his craft.  
This was not the first time that Melkor had entered the smithy, but this time was somehow different. Mairon could feel  
Melkor's eyes on him, watching him work with the attentive face of his that often curiously resembled a pout.  
Mairon suddenly wished more than ever that he was forging something worthy and demanding of respect; nonetheless,  
he began showing off what he could in front of the Vala.  
When Melkor realized his efforts, a pleased grin leered over his face. "Impressive." His sharp voice cut through the hiss  
of steam off metal.  
Melkor yearned for the radiance and beauty of the jewels denied him by the Noldor, unlike Mairon, who saw little use for  
such pettiness without a practical use.  
"I have nothing like it," Melkor said, indicating to the chain of gems newly forged. Mairon could see the lust in his gaze.  
He cooled off the chain, tested its strength, presented it to Melkor.  
The latter simply stared, oblivious to the offer. When he did understand, he took it with some uncertainty, avoiding  
eye contact. "...Thanks."  
Mairon shrugged it off, beginning on new tasks Aulë had given him. From his peripheral vision he viewed Melkor and pitied  
him some in that moment: a drifter, misplaced in Valinor, clutching the chain as if it would be abruptly taken from him.  
An awkward tension built, yet Melkor did not seem to mind. Mairon was tempted to ask an endless array of questions: What  
was it like to rebel? To have others below you, subject to your will? To take what is there and pervert it to your own liking?

Alas, he could not bring himself to ask such things in the sanctity of Valinor.

But Melkor held no regards for limits. They were simply there to be broken. "You could be so much more, Mairon..." He began slowly, unsure how the Maia would react.

Mairon glanced up at his urging, already snared in the cunning of Melkor. Now that the Vala was certain he had his full  
attention, he continued,  
"A smith of your standard should not be limited to the crafts of elves." He stepped closer and Mairon could see his own  
vibrant eyes staring back at him from the eyes of Melkor. It made him feel small...yet somehow honored.  
"After all, you are one of us. Not one of_ them_." As his voice scorned over the last word, his malicious grin returned,  
drawing in its prey.  
Mairon was no fool. He was well-aware of the situation he was in and the tactics Melkor was using on him. It was working  
though, and he let it.  
A fire began to burn deep inside him, a flame he had tried long to ignore. Melkor was feeding it desperately now, lest it  
extinguish and be gone forever. He fed it less with words and more with emotion; just as he sparked the emotion of the  
Noldor, inviting thoughts of greed and pride, he breathed dreams of great power and prestige to Mairon.  
"I will deal with the elves," Melkor whispered to him. "Aid me whenever I require it, and I will give you control wherever  
you so desire it."  
The flames ignited with an intense fervor, burning Mairon from the inside-out. Now doubt threatened to douse them if he  
should agree to Melkor's demands, for fear that he should be heard by the Valar.  
Melkor identified this uncertainty, teasing Mairon with a wicked smile, daring him.  
With a response required of him, Mairon broke out of his trance and gave only a subtle nod. He returned to his worktable,  
realizing that he had unconsciously wandered away from it.  
And not a moment too soon. Aulë entered the smithy, swinging his hammer by the handle, humming to himself. He did not  
notice Melkor for a brief moment but when he did, the sight invoked a fury in him. Melkor quickly stashed the chain away.  
"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT COMING IN HERE?! Quit distracting him!" Aulë bellowed, referring to Mairon, who continued with  
his task as if nothing had happened.  
Paying little heed to Aulë, Melkor departed out the door, but not before casting one last glance at Mairon, and it was  
enough to bind the Maia to his will.  
Aulë complained then to Mairon concerning Melkor, to whom the Maia pretended to express contempt; but all the while the  
fire blazed hot and intensely within him.

Mairon almost felt disappointment when Melkor was absent for a time. He was spoken of less and Mairon was hesitant to  
inquire his whereabouts, lest he attract suspicion. Amongst the elves there was strife and less enthusiasm for gems.  
Instead, the forging of weaponry began. It was evident that this must be the result of Melkor's doings, yet the variation  
was stimulating and Mairon entertained himself with the production of shields, swords, and armoury. When Melkor did make an  
appearance it was at his doorstep. The Vala had clothed himself in a black mist, making himself nearly undetectable. He  
pushed his way into Mairon's abode, where seconds before he had been forging a set of armour. Melkor approached it and a  
mischievous gleam came into his eyes.  
"I did well, did I not?"  
Mairon did not beat around the bush. "Where have you been?"  
"Out planning. Did you not hear?"  
"They tell me little."  
Melkor hid a smirk. "The other Valar are out on the search. The Noldor complained about me."  
"What are you planning?"  
"My revenge, skilled Maia. And when I go through with it, you must help me escape."  
Mairon nodded. "I will."  
"Swear."  
"I swear, Lord Melkor," he promised.  
It was only natural for the bringer of distrust to experience it himself, yet he was satisfied with Mairon's response.  
"You will be second only to me," Melkor assured him, delighted to see desire burn anew in the eyes of his servant once it  
was spoken.  
Before his leave, Melkor demanded another favor of Mairon.  
"Report important information to me."  
Mairon blinked. "How would I-"  
"Anything that you relate to me will remain hidden," Melkor stated impatiently, irritated that his abilities had been  
questioned.  
Mairon bowed swiftly. "Of course, My Lord."  
The obedience of Aulë's great Maia heartening to him, Melkor made haste towards the mountains, his path a dark blur.  
Mairon stared after for a time, half-expecting the Vala's shape to reappear. While he was pleased to hearken to Melkor's  
word, he was not yet willing to choose between Melkor and Aulë.

It was the third day of the celebration of Samirien; Mairon mingled with the other Maiar, if not less than willingly.  
Ossë's complaints of Ulmo were typical and irritating, Eönwë could have thought himself superior because he served Manwë,  
Melian sang too much. Mairon had a habit of sinking into the shadows and simply observing. It was while he did this  
that a spirit of Mandos appeared before him. At first Mairon assumed it had not come for him, but it beckoned to him now. He  
followed it with some uncertainty out of Taniquetil and from the empty streets of Valmar.  
"Who sent you?" Mairon called.  
"Melkor."  
It spoke no more, and neither did Mairon. They only stopped when they joined a group of other spirits and Melkor, hiding in  
the mountains. Each had armfuls of elvish jewelry. The silmarils sparkled brightest, partly hidden in Melkor's clothing.  
His hands were scarred black.  
Mairon stared. "What have you done?" There was no anger in his tone, only surprise.  
Melkor had a guilty expression. "Help us escape, Mairon. Who is in Taniquetil?"  
Mairon frowned as he pondered escape options, as he had before when Melkor first requested his help. "Everyone, except for Mandos  
and-"  
"Damn it."  
"Oromë has a stable of horses..."  
Melkor made a face. "Take us there."  
The horses were not calm in the presence of Melkor; this frustrated him greatly because it bought precious time. "Useless animals," he cursed.  
Mairon put a hand out to the one nearest him, talking softly to it for comfort. When it had calmed enough, Mairon mounted  
the horse with ease and patted down its flank. Melkor watched with the familiar pout in his features and it occurred then  
to Mairon that it was actually an expression of jealousy. He nearly laughed. Instead, he dismounted and offered the horse to Melkor,  
who clambered ungracefully onto its back. Mairon stood back while the rest of the group managed to mount a horse. Melkor stared at him expectantly before laughing.  
"No, I suppose you will stay with Aulë."  
Mairon fought back the urge to forget everything and ride with him then, for Melkor looked the most desirable in that moment,  
no matter how awkward. He only smiled in response, waving them off. Shielded in a cloak of shadow they rode off, a wild  
fire visible in Melkor's eyes, the same as that flickering a response in Mairon's, though he stayed behind.

He did not expect to hear of Melkor in Valinor again after the death of Finwë and the theft of the silmarils, especially  
now that he was declared an outlaw. But fate had it otherwise, for little time passed after the first crime of Melkor that a black shadow passed over Valinor once again, and while the others did not immediately recognize it, Mairon had. He never did understand why Melkor destroyed the trees; they had served a practical use, after all. In the end he simply accepted the act as an aspect of his volatile personality and his constant need to rebel.  
From past secret meetings was Mairon able to pick out the form of Melkor from the shadows of Ungoliant, and now his mind was made. Little time was left before the Vala would vanish from Valinor. Only one voice held him back, and it was his own.  
_Why give up everything you have, everything you are? You are a skilled and respected smith of Aulë..._  
But he refused to think of Aulë now.  
The shadows began to morph as they approached him. Mairon was hardly aware of his situation, of being swept along with them, until he too flew beside Melkor and the spirits loyal to him, fleeing the land of gods.  
And to the other Ainur, he was corrupted, an unfortunate victim of Melkor; for lies and betrayal were things only Melkor could be capable of, of which Mairon could never be.  
But Sauron was.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Essentially more of the past chapter for now because I feel I was not exactly finished with it. We will escape Valinor soon, promise XD**

**All appropriate rights to Tolkien.**

_...for lies and betrayal were things only Melkor could be capable of, of which Mairon could never be.  
But Sauron was._

Sauron had existed prior to Melkor's direct influence, although the influence was essentially always there. Mairon to Sauron had been more of maturing than a sudden change-that part of him seemed to be waiting for the right moment, the ideal opportunity to take form. The thoughts had come independently, and it did not seem right to attribute them to the effects of the music of Melkor. Mairon despised it when he first heard it, anyway. He had tried to change the song back to how it started: rich, powerful, endless. Melkor's song contained chaos and confusion. And so, in the beginning, he had  
initially not taken well to the disruption of harmony.  
But his thoughts yet overwhelmed him, to the point where he could never see himself as the perfect Maia he was acclaimed to be. When he would bow to Manwë, the lord of Aman would look down on him and smile, for Manwë saw only the good. And Mairon would hide the inner workings of his mind as best he could, afraid that others would know that which he wanted: the order of things under his command and to his liking, more than anything. And had Melkor not finally approached him, he may have  
attempted, some way, to attain what he desired.  
But the dark god distracted him from any possible plan or strategy he could devise for himself. Melkor made him want to shy away from his own plans that seemed so flimsy, so futile compared to those of a god. And the Vala was the only one he dared share his thoughts with, for anything that deviated from the direct will of Eru was frowned upon, and because Melkor would listen to (or pretend to, which was not uncommon) and occasionally hold brief conversation with him.  
When the lamps had been placed and Mairon first beheld their light, Melkor had managed to sneak up on him and had remained there for an unaccountable amount of time before speaking.  
"Do you not find that light accursed?" He was not looking at Mairon, but rather following his line of sight to the lamps with scorn, contempt dripping from his words.  
No, Mairon had not-But he did ever after; they became a representation of a relentless, prying gaze that sought to reveal what lay within and rebuke him for it.

Slowly, gradually, the views of Melkor became embedded and remained with Mairon, welcomed by this other part of him that praised the Vala for having no shame, and he was then drawn to the dark god. He gave his subtle aid to all of Melkor's projects and prided himself on his slyness. But Melkor seemed to be oblivious to all of it; and though it frustrated him, Mairon let it slide if only to witness the Vala's pleased countenance. That expression was worth more to him than the entire workmanship of Arda, and the only thing more satisfying was to have that look directed at _him_.

Melkor was released at a hectic time for the Valar, when they worried so for the firstborn, all alone in Arda. They had little time for their troubled captive, although he was always present, and now they had needed him. Mairon volunteered to fetch him, knocking at his door where he dwelt as a servant to Tulkas.  
"GO AWAY, TULKAS! I refuse to continue with your degrading domestic activities!" Melkor's voice blared from inside the dwelling, surprising Mairon with its boldness.  
He opened the door, spilling light from the Trees into the darkness of the room and into the face of Melkor. Outside, he kept up a fair demeanor and pleasing facade, but in here, isolated from others, his black hair hung ungroomed in his eyes. His stare was fierce and filled with loathing, taking in the sight of Mairon with a cold indifference while he rubbed his face in memory of where he had been punched by the one he just detestably addressed.  
Mairon awkwardly glimpsed the remnants of the chain of Angainor that bound yet to Melkor's wrists.  
"Oh, it's you. What do you want?" Melkor narrowed his eyes at the form of the Maia standing at his door. He hated the way the Maiar regarded him, so coolly, as though they had no reason to fear him. Who was going to save them? _Manwë?_  
And Mairon was among the worst; Aulë's pride and joy, always standing by him. The light from beyond the door made his bright hair shine, portraying him as the sparkling gift of Eru that everyone thought he was.  
But there was hope for this one, Melkor noted.  
"The Valar require your presence," Mairon informed him in the nonchalant tone he hated.  
"And they sent a blacksmith to tell me that? Am I now unworthy of even a herald?"  
His bitter words did little to affect Mairon. "Eönwë could not be bothered."  
The hostility faded somewhat from Melkor's eyes as he studied him with an emotion Mairon could not read, finally walking toward the door. Unsure, Mairon stepped back some.  
Melkor fixed his hair, smoothing it back effortlessly. Grinning smugly, he passed through the door Mairon held open for him. Why couldn't he wait on_ him,_ like this, everyday? Why Aulë?  
Mairon remained at his side while they walked the street, before Melkor suddenly stopped and frowned at him. "Mairon."  
The Maia paused, waiting a second before seeming to understand. "Would you rather I did not accompany you?"  
"You may, but only if you walk behind me. I'm not sure where you get the nerve to walk at my side."  
It was puzzling to Mairon why the Vala's behavior was not kept in check with him, yet he glossed over all of his words around the other Ainur-Tulkas excluded, though he did hold back the full extent of his anger to avoid a fight.  
Nevertheless, Mairon merely smiled and took his place behind Melkor. Both were aware that Mairon was disobeying orders in treating Melkor as a respected superior, and this made the Vala's ego swell.  
But once before Taniquetil, his entire visage changed. He became a humbled and awe-inspired guest of Valinor, bowing before each of the Valar. For a split moment his eyes met Mairon's as the latter took position beside Aulë, and he knew then that the Maia was well aware of his pretense. His face hardened and his eyes regained their coldness, and for the second time Mairon alone had witnessed the true Melkor without his defenses. Melkor became fearful; but Mairon could not read him then,  
as he later could better than anyone, and saw only the threat.

Melkor was very wary of this Maia now. He was openly questioning his authority, only to then feign sub-ordinance, and likely told Aulë about Melkor's rash behavior. And the Noldor just about worshiped him...nearly how Melkor should have been worshiped.  
Yes, Mairon was more dangerous than Eönwë now, who was constantly spying on him, yet "Could not be bothered" with him most of the time-his fury nearly built up at the thought, but he laughed it off. Eönwë was _Manwë's_ Maia, of course he couldn't be bothered doing anything.  
He glanced over to where Mairon was demonstrating...something to do with forging for Mahtan. He did not particularly care about that, unless they were planning to send everything they made to him as tribute.  
He observed Mairon closely. He could not fully despise the Maia; after all, he was useful. And he had hard, strong features. Melkor could do something with that...he could make them intimidating. But Mairon was much, much too loyal. Oh yes, he was in awe of the dark god, anyone could see that. But he probably lacked the nerve. Which was fine...at least it meant he was cautious. Many of the other Maiar that Melkor had converted had regretted their decision soon after. He laughed aloud at the memory, causing the elves around him obvious discomfort. For some reason, their frolicking and giggling was accepted, even endorsed, whereas his sadistic laughter was never welcomed.

He decided to pay the Maia visits in his own forge. At first he was hoping to intimidate him, but Mairon seemed to actually..._enjoy_ his presence. Perhaps he just liked to show off, because he was surely doing enough of that, and Melkor struggled to hide his envy and amazement. But he knew that he had little chance to sway the Maia to his side...and he would certainly need assistance for any devious plans. He would just have to make another attempt and wait until the Maia was alone. He used the only weapon he had against Mairon, that being their past conversations, usually centered around the clearly flawed governing system of Valinor-if he remembered correctly...sometimes he had merely pretended to listen.  
He promised Mairon control, to set order as he so desired . At first he figured that his plan would fail and the Maia would be lost from his clutches forever, but it appeared that he had strung the right chord. Mairon looked up and a fire seemed to light up his eyes, fastened intensely on Melkor. The Vala actually had to ease off somewhat; the fire in Mairon was strong, even to a god.  
But it was thrilling.  
_You're mine, Mairon._

Those eyes had still not lost their spark when Melkor met up with them on the outskirts of Valinor. The Maia always waited patiently in the darkness before Silpion began its bloom, and Melkor enjoyed to simply hide and watch the visible battle of determination and uncertainty in his features; determination always won out, especially once Melkor showed up. It fascinated him that he barely had to fuel Mairon's desires to achieve his loyalty.  
Mairon stepped forward when confronted by his lord and bowed respectfully. "None are informed of your whereabouts, Lord Melkor."  
Just recently suspicions had been aroused, speculating the existence of a spy amongst the Ainur. Mairon, of course, had been glanced over immediately without second thought. Much of the blame actually ended up going to Mandos, as he was a frequent scapegoat when Melkor was absent, and Mairon often wondered why he remained ever faithful and unmoved.  
"Except for you, Mairon. How do I know I can trust you?"  
Mairon tilted his head upwards. "My Lord, I did not come to you in the midst of your beginning glory to bask in it, and forsake you in your darkest hour."  
"You were not with me in my beginning glory."  
"That would not have been convenient for me, would it?"  
Melkor did a double-take, hearing his words. He battled between emotions and would have lashed out, had he not beheld Mairon's calm, assured expression before him. The Maia was stealthy...he did not simply jump in before scoping out the danger. Why discourage that?  
"You are crafty. _But insolent_."  
The Maia smiled bitterly. "Aye, but I am yours now; and whosoever dares to go up against the might of Melkor thereby invokes the insolence of Mairon."  
A wide grin settled over the god's face like a shadow, and Mairon at last was at the receiving end of Melkor's satisfaction.  
"You're darker than I thought, Maia."


End file.
